A Compass for Deep Heaven - A Review

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There is version of academic work that focuses mainly on how the author handles secondary works. This leads to the sort of reviews that argue that, though the focus of a book or essay was a particular author, if someone didn’t specifically reference another author’s book or essay that they have somehow failed as a scholar. Worse would be if someone did read the approved sources and still managed to come to a different reading of the original source.

Such petty narrowmindedness exists within many different guilds of scholarship. It is a reflection of scholarship for the sake of prestige rather than for its own sake.

There are, of course, important essays and books that should be dealt with as appropriate. It would be tiresome to begin always in the same place, so that every new work had to pretend like nothing had every previously been written or said. Good scholarship often builds on previous work. But if an essay deals meaningfully with the text or topic in question, counting footnotes and checking the bibliography to measure quality is tacky.

A recent volume by a group of undergraduates was a refreshing glimpse into what thoughtful scholarship can look like, when one does not get lost in the weeds of secondary literature. In A Compass for Deep Heaven, a collection of honors students from Azusa Pacific University demonstrates thoughtful exploration of a topic without cluttering the notes with excessive commentary about the commentary.

The volume offers an accessible introduction to C. S. Lewis’ Ransom Trilogy, which is often referred to as the Space Trilogy. For many, Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous Strength, remain unexplored territory in the literature of Lewis. They get neglected in favor of Narnia, Mere Christianity, and some of his more popular collections of essays. These three volumes, however, offer impressive illustrations of Lewis’ ideas and are an imaginative rebuttal to the illnesses of modernity. Due to the number of cultural allusions, the references to other works of science fiction, and the strangeness of the third volume, the Space Trilogy is often only slightly less neglected than Lewis’ scholarly work.

Part of the pleasure of reading A Compass for Deep Heaven is that the authors keep their focus on the work under consideration. They use sources to amplify their arguments and bring readers deeper into Lewis’ work. Really, the only signs that they authors are undergraduates is the lack of terminal degrees in their biographies, a note about the volume being published by their university initially, and the fact that the authors were less concerned with padding the notes than making their point.

This is a good book. May more books with this tone increase. And, more significantly, may books like this draw more people into the work of C. S. Lewis.

NOTE: I received a gratis copy of this volume with no expectation of a positive review.

How Dante Can Save Your Life - A Review

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I have subjected my daughter to a “Great Conversations” curriculum for her high school homeschool. She is of the bookish sort, so the large volume of reading is really up her alley.

This year, at the beginning of the year, she is staring down Spenser’s Faerie Queene and Dante’s Divine Comedy at roughly the same time. Spenser is in her English literature curriculum, with Dante occupying a prime place (about 1/6th of the year) in her Great Conversations course. There is overlap between the courses, though Great Conversations tends to be as much about history and philosophy as literary value.

In any case with my dear daughter bowed under the weight of two classic, but challenging, texts, I felt compelled to find her some resources (besides my fervent assurance) that they volumes are very much worth the labor to read and understand them.

I have heard Rod Dreher’s 2015 book, How Dante Can Save Your Life recommended by some that know Dante well. Even some that find Dreher’s more recent work in The Benedict Option and Live Not by Lies a bit too political and panicked have recommended the volume.

There is good reason for the recommendation. This is a good book. It’s not quite the commentary on Dante that I was looking for, but it tells a good story, it uses Dante’s Divine Comedy as a framework, and engages the mind and heart in the pursuit of truth.

Like most converts to anything, Dreher has strong opinions. The story he tells in How Dante Can Save Your Life has strong ties to Dreher’s opinions about the value of Roman Catholicism he left from his earlier Methodism, and the Orthodoxy that Dreher adopted after he became disgusted with the Catholic hierarchy after sitting under a liberal priest and reporting on the Roman Catholic sex scandals in the late ‘90s and early 2000s. There is a lot of veneration of icons, exorcisms, and ritualistic prayers in the book that will make those familiar with Scripture, especially the second commandment (or the 2nd half of the first commandment in the Catholic and Orthodox tradition) very uncomfortable. At the same time, there is a real discovery of grace and the ability to forgive that provides the climax of the book.

This is a story of homegoing. After the death of his sister––whose legacy Dreher memorialized in The Little Way of Ruthie Leming––Dreher and his family moved back to rural Louisiana. Dreher expected to be welcomed back, but found himself alienated from his family and depressed. The stress of his anger at his perceived mistreatment left him with a significant bout of chronic fatigue.

How Dante Can Save Your Life is a story of Dreher finding his way out of a pit of depression and learning to forgive his family. It involves regular counselling, ascetic spiritual practices, and a deep dive into Dante’s epic journey through Hell, Purgatory, and finally on to Paradise.

As I have said, this is not primarily a commentary on Dante. However, as Dreher follows Dante on his journey, we see how a great work of literature can have a significant impact on the mind, body, and soul. Dreher’s telling of his own story maps well onto Dante’s journey of self-discovery. Although the story is more about Dreher than Dante, it is well-told and it does illuminate the power of the Divine Comedy many centuries after it was first penned.

This book is impressive because it was written to a broad audience. Dreher invites secular readers into a moral vision that points toward Christianity. It isn’t clearly stated, but the Dreher offers and invitation to the reader to be conformed to the moral order of the universe. Through his own story of discovering joy in chastity, even the atheist can see the value in the discipline of sexual restraint and seeking persistent love before conjugal relations.

Dreher provides some resolution to the tension of the story, but it is a powerful twist on the ending one might expect. If this were a sitcom, then Dreher would have been received with open arms by his family, everyone would apologize and the wrongs of previous years forgotten. As it stands, Dreher recounts his coming the point of being able to forgive despite not receiving many concessions from the family who held him at a distance. In this Dreher provides a picture of the most likely reality. We do not always get to live happily ever after, but we get many opportunities to choose to be as happy as we can be in a given circumstance.

This is Dreher’s book telling Dreher’s story. There are points at which one wonders if the narrator can be fully trusted. Although Dreher admits to some of his own failings, it is clear that he believes the fault is mainly on the other side. The reader is left wondering whether Dreher is entirely fair to the rest of his family. The downside of the book is that the reading of it feels a little voyeuristic. One wonders how the rest of the family feels about his publication of this volume.

If you can get over the feeling that there might be too much dirty laundry exposed in this volume, the book is well worth reading. I’m offering it as an auxiliary volume for the Great Conversations curriculum as a way to see the value of Dante. It also offers a thoughtful portrait of redemption and forgiveness. These are all things that deserved to be explored in greater detail by all of us, especially by those trying to figure out why the books consistently chosen for a Great Conversations curriculum belong there.

Good Prose - A Review

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There is a certain amount of learning how to write that comes through osmosis, first by reading widely and second by simply writing. At some point, however, the amount that one can discover by blundering about copying better writing and dissecting one’s resulting prose is exhausted. Professional help is needed.

For those in academic settings, getting help with writing is much easier than for those outside the ivory tower. There is a writing center, a critical mass of people all trying to write better, and even classes that one can audit if time allows. For others, especially those who practice their writing largely in isolation, external helps are needed, often in the form of books about writing.

Good Prose is such a book. It is co-written by Tracy Kidder, a Pulitzer Prize winning author, and his long-time editor, Richard Todd. The relationship they share is an unlikely situation in our contemporary setting. Most authors flit around between publications trying to scrape out a meager existence between online and print articles. Editors seem to change allegiances nearly as quickly, especially as the ability to edit seems to be much less significant to many people than the willingness to acquiesce to whatever the trendy political flavor of the day is. Kidder and Todd worked at The Atlantic together for decades. They collaborated on stories, articles, and even books. Some of those books took years to write.

The result of the partnership between Kidder and Todd was more than a large literary output and a Pulitzer Prize. A friendship is evident that helped shape the way each other thought and the way the words were formed on the page. The actual writing advice in Good Prose at some points is less visible than the story of the relationship between an editor and a writer. That is to say, this is the sort of book that someone who had very little interest in writing or editing well could be enthralled by.

The chapters flow as one might expect from a less narratival approach to teaching writing: discussions of narratives, memoirs, essays, the importance of facts (and the ability to negotiate them), issues of style and commercial viability, and the balance between conformity to standard usage and bending the rules. This isn’t Strunk and White’s twenty-five rules, though. One gets a strict list of applications and speed limits from that slim volume. Good Prose offers guidance, but more importantly, it offers a vision of what the writing life can be in the best of circumstances.

On my first pass through the volume, I barely noticed the technical advice that authors provided in their collaboration. As I was reviewing the book to write this review the actual writing instruction became more apparent. What stuck out during my careful reading of the volume is the encouragement of a friendship around communicating to the world through the written word.

If you are struggling with grammar, this may not be the book for you. (In fact, they point you toward a book they recommend on the topic.) However, if you are looking for encouragement in your own quest to continue writing, in your willingness to be edited, and in the hope that you can improve over time, then this is a book that delivers.

Good Prose: The Art of Nonfiction
By Kidder, Tracy, Todd, Richard
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